Wei almost charged forward, reckless, staying close to Chun's back.
The narrow, rough tunnel scraped along his arms, the stone walls lined like rows of teeth with backward barbs, but he barely felt the pain. When they burst out of the passage, the night wind slammed into his face—
They had entered the familiar forest.
Wei instinctively turned his head and looked back toward home.
Dull explosions thudded from the distance, one after another. That direction had already been swallowed by darkness, leaving only a vague, broken outline. His focus slipped at once; his vision blurred as if soaked in water, light smearing and spreading, tears spilling down before he could stop them.
He suddenly slapped his forehead.
"Idiot… why didn't I think of bringing my dad into the tunnel with us?"
"Dummy. If we did that, the enemy would've found us right away!"
Chun almost raised her hand, just like Wei's father would have, to smack some sense into him—but she held back.
"Your dad was trying to—"
She couldn't finish.
Instead, she grabbed him hard, spun around, and plunged straight into the deeper forest.
Tree shadows layered over one another in the night, branches interlocking like endless black walls, forcing them to lower their heads as they pushed through.
Chun's hand clamped around his wrist with startling strength, nearly yanking him off his feet. Her fingers were icy, stiff—unnaturally so, like something that didn't quite belong to a living body—yet she didn't loosen her grip for even a moment.
Wei stumbled as she dragged him forward, his foot slipping on the uneven ground before he barely managed to steady himself and surge ahead with her pull.
The faint forest path vanished quickly into the darkness.
The soil underfoot turned soft, mixed with dead leaves and loose stones. Every step felt like stepping into an empty ear—sounds magnified, echoing again and again inside his head, too clear, too close, setting his nerves on edge.
Without realizing it, Wei slowed down.
He knew that if he focused even a little, if he tried to"see" the road with those abnormal eyes of his, the blurring and stabbing pain would only worsen. The tears would never stop. That unexplainable ability of his—right now—was nothing but a burden.
For the moment, he couldn't rely on it.
He could feel how light Chun's steps were, almost gliding along the ground. Before every step, there was a pause so brief it was nearly imperceptible—like she was using her body itself to test the unseen darkness ahead.
"Snap."
The sound was tiny, the soft break of a blade of grass—easy to miss.
But it cut cleanly into Wei's ears.
Every nerve in his body went taut.
"Stop," Wei whispered sharply.
He reached out, blocking Chun, and edged his way in front of her, feeling his way forward.
He crouched and brushed his hand over the ground—
In the next instant, a piercing cold shot up from his fingertips.
Wei's heart sank.
"Damn it… we're off the main path."
Ahead of them lay a steel animal trap.
One he had set himself, together with his father.
It was supposed to be hidden beside the road, along a narrow trail animals were sure to pass through. Now it sat directly in their path, jaws gaping like a waiting mouth of iron.
"I'll lead," Wei said quietly.
Chun hesitated."But you can't even see clearly—"
"I know this forest better than you," Wei cut in."I could walk it with my eyes closed."
As he spoke, he was already moving forward.
Because he knew this much for certain—
This was far from the only trap his father had buried here.
-----------------
On the opposite side of the forest, Lin was running.
Not the blind, reckless sprint of someone fleeing death, but a forced, restrained pace—one chosen with care. He knew what lay ahead.
A cliff.
A dead end.
And the only way out.
Beyond the trees was a broken precipice, where a mountain spring burst from the rock and plunged downward, carving a narrow, twisting river that ran toward the valley below. The water was fast, icy, and black. Once you entered it, there was no way to tell who was alive and who was already dead.
If he had been alone, Lin would have reached it long ago.
But he wasn't.
Undead warriors were closing in from three directions behind him, tightening like a net. Ahead, the pregnant woman was clearly exhausted. Her steps grew heavier with each stride, her breathing ragged and uneven, wheezing like a broken bellows.
Lin suddenly reached out, seized the seven-year-old boy beside him, and lifted him straight onto his shoulder.
The child screamed.
Not from pain.
From terror.
He began thrashing wildly, crying without restraint. His legs kicked in the air, his small hands clawed desperately at Lin's collar, as if trying to tear himself free from this strange, unyielding body.
"Slow down! Slow down!"
The pregnant woman cried hoarsely behind them."You're hurting him!"
Lin did not turn back.
He drew in a rough breath and pressed the boy more firmly against his shoulder.
Ahead of them, another young couple had already reached the edge of the ravine.
Night pressed down low over the forest. In the darkness, the stream glimmered with a cold, dim sheen. Water thundered along the stone walls, deep and coarse, like some beast crouched in the shadows. That was no river—it was something that swallowed people whole.
The woman holding a two-year-old child did not hesitate. Her toes left the ground, and in the same instant, she was taken by darkness and the roar of water.
The splash came a heartbeat later.
Her body slammed into rocks and tangled brush below. Sharp branches and jagged stone tore into her skin. Blood seeped out at once, invisible in the night, leaving only raw, burning pain.
The child, meanwhile, was swept away in an instant by the rushing water, vanished to nowhere anyone could see.